


dare you to kiss me

by Khismer



Category: Mystic Messenger (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, M/M, Mistletoe, gender-neutral reader (no pronouns)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-25
Updated: 2016-12-25
Packaged: 2018-09-11 23:52:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9044738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Khismer/pseuds/Khismer
Summary: You’d kind of thought surveillance this time would be more… exciting. It’s Christmas, after all! In retrospect, you should have known that none of it could change him. Maybe some mistletoe would do the trick.





	

You’d kind of thought surveillance this time would be more… _exciting_. It’s Christmas, after all! Everything is _festive_. The shop windows are decked out with lights and fake snow, there’s tinsel wound around the street lights, and everyone seems to have an extra spring in their step.

In retrospect, you should have known that none of it could change him. 

You’re settled in a little booth by the window of a locally-owned cafe, alternating between looking at his laptop screen and glancing out the window as you watch people bustling by, setting up for the crowd that will no doubt swarm the party later tonight.

There’s two mugs of cocoa before you, one with a slowly-melting tower of whipped cream atop it -- his, to your delight. They’ve both been refilled too many times to remember, a testament to how long you've been here.  _ Should  _ be a testament to your diligence, too, but there’s not much for  _ you  _ to do besides give an occasional comment and tell him what you can see outside the window.

There’s not all that much to see, really. It’s  _ incredibly _ busy, but you can’t catch more than occasional glances if the two you’re supposed to be keeping an eye out for -- the college student and the corporate heir’s assistant.

She sure is pretty. You wonder if she ever branches out to bolder colors, or styles. Might suit her even better. ...might make her easier to spot in this crowd. 

Anyway, for now you’re just watching idly, not really making much progress despite the  _ helpful _ tip-off from your  _ friend _ in the apartment. Speaking of which --

“I still can't believe they gave you the address,” you say. 

“Gave  _ us _ ,” he says, because of  _ course  _ he still gets a kick out of reminding you that you're working together. And, well. Technically you  _ did  _ help put them in the apartment, so you can’t really argue that point.

“Yeah,” you say, “ _us_. Good thing, too. If I wasn’t there to rein in your creepy ass maybe they'd have been tipped off and stopped responding immediately, instead of _after_ you sent those other, creepier texts. At least _I_ got _one_ answer out of it.”

You wish you hadn’t, because you can’t be sure that whatever you're doing here won't end up hurting them, but hopefully they'll be a little wiser about talking to strangers after getting a taste of _him._

Or not, in which case there’s not much you can do for them from here. ...that’s not a comforting thought.

“I can't believe you  _ sang _ to them.”

He laughs softly, still looking at the laptop. “You loved it.”

“Well…” Yeah, alright, you kind of did, even if it was also terrifying. Still, you don't need to let him know that. 

You turn away from the window and drain your mug again. 

The waitress who comes to give you yet another refill seems to catch your bored look as you sigh and rest your chin on your hands, because she glances above your head, then looks back at you then over to him and gives you a smile and a very obvious wink.

What--?

Oh, no way. This is too good.

You're not sure how you could have missed this, but there's a sprig of false mistletoe tacked to the ceiling just above the booth.

You wait until she leaves, then nudge him with your elbow, aiming for casual. “Hey, boss,” you say.

He takes too long to respond, so you nudge him again. “ _ Hey _ .”

Finally, he looks your way. “What?”

In lieu of saying anything, you just point above your head. 

“... _ what _ ?”

You make a face. “ _ Mistletoe _ , boss.”

He looks at the mistletoe, then at you, back and forth. “And?”

“ _ And _ , it’s, y’know,  _ tradition  _ to kiss under the mistletoe?”

His mouth pulls to the side,unimpressed. “Mnh.”

“Oh, fine,” you huff. “I guess it doesn't matter.” You settle your elbows on the table and try to keep the grin off your face. “Bet you wouldn't be any good at it, anyway.”

He stills, eyes narrowed. Each moment he stares at you makes it harder to keep a straight face. 

But then he turns back to the screen and slowly starts typing again. 

Huh. You thought for sure that would work. Well, so much for staving off boredom. 

You slump, considerably sourer than you were a moment ago. Maybe you should have expected that. 

You reach over and swipe some of the whipped cream from his cocoa and pop your finger in your mouth. Just as you do, you jolt, your finger falling as you yelp. “Mm -- boss--!”

His hand is on your thigh.  

You turn to shoot him a scandalized look, but he isn't even watching you, eyes still on his laptop. 

“Boss…” you warn. You can see his lips curl into a smirk, and he tightens his grip. 

He continues to type, though, nonchalant as can be. 

Out of spite, you reach to get more whipped cream -- he teases you, you make sure he doesn't get the sugar fix he wants, sounds fair to you -- and then he shifts his hand, runs it along your inner thigh. Your breath hitches. “H-ey--!”

You can't protest any louder without drawing attention to yourself, and when you reach to pull his hand away he flips it, palm up, and grabs hold of yours, tugging you closer. 

You fall sideways a little before righting yourself, ending up nestled close against him. You jerk your head towards him, ready to tell him off, and he grabs your chin.

You blink at him. “What -- are you doing?” You try to keep your voice even, though you stumble a little when he draws in closer.

He glances up. “Following tradition.” When he looks back at you, there’s something in his eyes that makes you shiver. His smirk grows as he notices that, and then he pulls you closer still and kisses you.

You can’t say you weren’t expecting it at this point, but his kiss is still heady, leaving you breathless. 

There’s a sort of reckless passion to his movements; he presses against you firmly, insistently, nipping at your lower lip and tangling his tongue with yours, All you can taste is the hot chocolate you’ve both been drinking for hours.

The hand at your jaw does not relent, urging you to angle your head this way and that. He does it so often you think maybe he just likes making you do as he pleases, but shit, if he keeps this up, you don’t even mind.

He pulls apart only enough to breathe, forehead still pressed against yours. His eyes slide open, and you shiver at the open lust there. He seems to decide you’ve been parted long enough, and he meets you again in another kiss.

This time it’s less rushed, though he does not hold you any gentler than before. He catches your lip in his teeth and then runs his tongue along it, slowly, languidly.

You whimper, though a fleeting voice in the back of your mind reminds you that you’re in  _ public _ for god’s sake, if they haven’t noticed you yet, don’t do anything that could draw their attention  _ now _ . 

Finally, he pulls back. 

“Sweet,” he remarks, a smirk playing at his lips as he swipes a thumb over yours. He blinks, and his eyes go half-lidded. You tense in anticipation of another kiss. 

\-- and his laptop chimes. He stills, though he continues to run his thumb over your lip, slowly, slowly, and then draws back.  

“Time to go.”

“Wh--”

“Don’t forget to pay.” He closes his laptop, picks it up, and starts squeezing past you out of the booth. 

“Where are  _ you _ going?”

“To the car. Don't be long.”

“You--!” 

He pats your head before he goes, and you're not quick enough to swat at him. Smug bastard. 

You sigh and lean back in your seat, waiting for. Someone to come around. thankfully, it doesn't take long, and the waitress appears, a tray at the ready. 

“Finished?” she asks. When you nod, she picks up the mugs. 

“Yyyyep, heading out. Got… parties to get to.”

She nods, “well, have fun!” She sets the bill down on the table, then adds, “you know, if you don't mind my saying so, your boyfriend’s pretty cute, but it's awful rude of him to leave you to pay the bill.”

You just  _ barely  _ manage not to freeze up. “Oh… heh… thanks. He's… like that.”

She's still smiling. For some reason. this seems directed at you. “...what?”

“If you need more attention from him, you could always get some mistletoe for yourself.” 

“For--? Oh.” It's your cover, you shouldn't be surprised by this. “...you know, I just might do that.”

She nods, seemingly satisfied, and walks away as you stand. 

After a moment's hesitation, you hop up onto one of the booth seats and snatch the mistletoe from where it's pinned, and shove it into your pocket. 

You'll settle this back at Mint Eye. 

**Author's Note:**

> I told myself I wasn't going to write a Christmas fic bc I didn't have time but here it is. here it is.


End file.
